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The Triennale québécoise 2011 Le travail qui nous attend / The Work Ahead of Us – 1

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Howdy!

The Work Ahead of Us, indeed! I’ve heard some people mention that I haven’t been writing too too much about art recently, sorry. And now I’m about to make up for it. Since I have broached the multi-part review, I figure I can do it again, and again, and, well you get the picture. Last week I was able to go see The Québec Triennial 2011 and given that there are something like 50 different artists involved along with a 500 page catalogue, there should be a lot of work involved in reviewing it. If this works out, I figure it’ll take me at least five parts to wrest everything I think about the show out of my system. Apologies in advance if you like things short and sweet.

But since the show itself is a large sprawling show, I figure a large sprawling review is appropriate. I can only hope that my worst paragraphs aren’t as bad as the worst parts of the Triennial, but somehow I have this sinking suspicion that in fact they will be worse. More apologies in advance.

As far as I could tell, there was no real structure to the show. The first piece from it that I saw was Rafael Lozano-Hemmer‘s Architecture relationnelle 18. Intersection articulée.

I had gone to a friend’s house which just so happens to be about a block away from Place des Festivals and while I wasn’t able to make a special trip down there to go see it, once I was there, it seemed pretty darn foolish to ignore it.

So I played with the joysticks for about five minutes, looking up at the giant light sabres in the sky kind of trying to figure out how the whole thing worked. Somewhere I had heard that Mr. Lozano-Hemmer was using the very same spotlights that were used by the US government on the Mexican border, and that there was some kind of political statement being made by virtue of the fact that “the public” could in fact manipulate the search lights, in opposition to how they were normally controlled, which is by U.S. Customs and Border Protection Guards.

I’m not convinced that it works as such. The documentation was kind of sketchy, and having a political piece about the U.S. – Mexican border in downtown Montreal seems a little far-fetched. Almost like being a fan of the Canadiens in Mexico City.

However as a pretty spectacle temporarily juxtaposed against the Place Ville Marie searchlights on the Montreal skyline it worked very well. The chaotic nature of the 18 spotlights, all for the most part aimed vertically, versus the regularity and horizontal nature of the lights on Place Ville Marie make for a very nice couple.

One of the more interesting things about going to see it, was how self-referential it was. When someone would play with the joystick, they were pretty much always looking at the light that they controlled. If you weren’t controlling a joystick you were most likely taking a picture or a video of your friend who was controlling a joystick.

Viewing it from afar, it would crop up in your field of view, and compete for your attention depending on where you were in town, but very rarely would it be able to keep your (read “my”) attention for more than a couple of seconds.

Architecture relationnelle 18. Intersection articulée also works as a proxy for the entire Triennale québécoise 2011 in that it is self-referential, attracts attention briefly and like all the artwork that pops up on Place des Festivals disappears without leaving a trace.

I could also write about how Architecture relationnelle 18. Intersection articulée also was designed for people with short attention spans, wasn’t too too deep and the similarity to those searchlights that are rented by event planners for the opening of a new car dealership or a discotheque in order to attract more attention. But instead of doing that, I’ll leave it up to you to make those connections and any others that you can think of. Otherwise this review could end up as long as the catalogue.

And speaking of length of reviews, I got a stick up my ass about the current state of affairs. This “review” in La Presse is 1,441 words, or about the equivalent of about 29 words for each artist. This “review” in Canadian Art magazine is 2.007 words, or about 40 words per artist. This “review” in Le Devoir is 1,162 words, or about 23 words per artist. This “review” in View on Canadian Art is 1,063 words, or about 21 words per artist. This “review” in The Montreal Gazette is 764 words, or about 15 words per artist. And lastly, this “review” in Voir is 797 words, or about 16 words per artist. (In case you were interested, the press release is 2,125 words long, or the equivalent of about 42½ words per artist, and the list of artists is 111 words long.)

How the heck is anyone going to get any sort of understanding or deeper comprehension on an exhibit that professes to be the definitive statement on art in Quebec in 2011 if the people who are paid to explain it to the general population, don’t even give it more than lip service. And what’s probably even worse is that I imagine the fine folk at the museum who are charged with things like tracking reviews are all quite chuffed about the reviews the show has received.

For the record, this is at 926 words and I’ve only mentioned one piece of art, in passing. In for a penny, in for a pound.

As long as we are on this tangent, I might as well apologize for the lack of pictures and videos, I asked the museum if I could go and take videos and was politely rebuffed, and after the issues the last two times I went to take still pictures, I decided to take my doctor’s advice and keep my blood pressure down, so we’re stuck with whatever I can find on YouTube, Flickr and the lousy reproductions I take myself from the catalogue (cf. paragraph 29 of the Canadian Copyright Act).

So how can I get this review back on track? Well, let’s start with perception, for those of you who have been under a rock for the last little while (and to be honest, I don’t blame you) or those of you from out-of-town and who don’t obsess over the microscopic Quebecois art world happenings, this is the second Triennial (website for the first is here). There is also a Biennial (more properly known here in town as The Biennale) and then just down the river there’s the Manif d’art (aka The Manifestation Internationale D’Art de Quebec). Or in other words there is a large overview of art made in Quebec, funded by the government every year (the Manif and the Biennale alternate years) and sometimes (like this year) there are two.

[As an aside, if you’re interested in hearing and seeing what I thought of this past year’s Biennale watch these.]

Given that any organization that gets money from the government and is successful in bringing in tourists, shouts about it from not only the tallest rooftops, but every darn rooftop in town; one, two, etc) I can only presume that since I haven’t heard about how many tourist dollars these art exhibits are responsible for, that they aren’t responsible for any. Which translates into they are all only playing for the locals. Which when you come to think about it, could be one major reason why art from Quebec isn’t appreciated much beyond the borders.

It’s that “definitive statement on art in Quebec in 2011” that kind of sticks in my craw. Looking back at the press release, they use sentences like “arriving at a comprehensive sense of Québec artistic practice in these early years of the twenty-first century.” and “a reference work on contemporary art in Québec” and while it’s very easy to think that something so large is definitive and comprehensive; from my perspective there are whacks and whacks (or if you prefer scads and scads) of artists who have been left out and ignored.

And that’s one place where I have some difficulties with The Triennale québécoise 2011 Le travail qui nous attend / The Work Ahead of Us. Like Rafael Lozano-Hemmer‘s Architecture relationnelle 18. Intersection articulée which can also be seen as just a bunch of light beams moving spastically across the sky, kind of like an ephemeral game of pick up sticks, there is something to be said about the spaces between the sticks that allow you to pick up the sticks without dislodging the others. The Triennial can also be likened to a random collection of similar objects that need to be organized, but once you recognize that the spaces in between the objects is as important as the objects themselves then it becomes easier to glom on to and get a grip on the show.

Initially, I thought I would reference my notes, the catalogue and what I could find on the internet to write about a paragraph or so on each artist involved in The Triennale québécoise 2011 Le travail qui nous attend / The Work Ahead of Us, but now I’m not so sure. I’m still going to reference my notes, the catalogue and what I can find on the internet to talk about the show, I’m just not so certain that a) It’s going to be a paragraph for each artist, and b) I hope that tomorrow I can discuss more than one work.

Art, Fashion, Montréal, Photo Essay, Public Art, Québec, Ramble, Rave, Review, Visual Art

Outfits from a New Era at the Biosphere (Part Five)

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Howdy!

Part One is here, Part Two is here, Part Three is here, and Part Four is here.

Haute couture 2.0 by Mélissa Turgeon
Haute couture 2.0 by Mélissa Turgeon

Haute couture 2.0 my eye! A) Who uses a mouse with a wire these days anyhows? Haute couture 1.75. B) PS/2 connectors were beginning to be phased out 2001. Haute couture 1.50. C) Compaq hasn’t existed as a company since 2002. Haute couture 1.25. Web 2.0 was coined as a term in 2004. Haute couture 1.00. And I’m certain if I looked closer I could come up with at least four other mistakes with the name.

So how about we call this something more like Long Stringy Dress Made out of Colorful Wires? Or Non-Grass Grass Skirt for Quebecois Hula Dancing, or something like that? Instead of showing off a blissful ignorance of technology and technological terms.

Now that I’ve got that off my chest, we can take a closer look at the Non-Grass Grass Skirt for Quebecois Hula Dancing.

Detail from Non-Grass Grass Skirt for Quebecois Hula Dancing by Mélissa Turgeon
Detail from Non-Grass Grass Skirt for Quebecois Hula Dancing by Mélissa Turgeon

Overall I gotta give Ms. Turgeon some props. Despite not knowing how to name her dresses, the Non-Grass Grass Skirt for Quebecois Hula Dancing quite possibly best exemplifies the ideas and concepts behind Outfits from a New Era at the Biosphere. In that none of the materials used were new, and that what she uses as textiles truly has been salvaged from the scrap heap.

Personally I would have ditched the actual mice (mouses?) all they’re going to do is bruise someone’s ankles, and the biegeness of them definitely detracts from the extremely colorful nature of the rest of the dress. Maybe, perhaps, possibly they could have been used as ear flaps for the headgear. It wolod have also been nice to see what it looked like if all the wires were grouped together by color.

I’m not certain that it would have been “better.” But I still would like to be able to compare. I have a feeling that the sense of the material (ie making people more aware that it was made out of wires) would have come through slightly stronger. But then again, what do I know about making a Non-Grass Grass Skirt for Quebecois Hula Dancing?

Headgear for Non-Grass Grass Skirt for Quebecois Hula Dancing by Mélissa Turgeon
Headgear for Non-Grass Grass Skirt for Quebecois Hula Dancing by Mélissa Turgeon

Sort of flapper inspired (I’m not entirely certain that it would go with the Charlestea dress by By Maude Lapierre) for the next time she makes one, she should try to spell out some messages in the hat.

Caustic Swimsuit By Jennifer Bergeron
Caustic Swimsuit By Jennifer Bergeron

Now we’re coming into the homestretch. Caustic Swimsuit and a dress called Hit Parade. The Caustic Swimsuit is particularly intriguing, in that I am not entirely certain that there is anyone who could swim while wearing a 240 lb. swimsuit. Heck, even lying around the pool would be a chore! OK, maybe Iris Kyle could wear it without collapsing. But nonetheless, there’s something kinda cool in a bling-bling way about 1,200 batteries glued together.

But who has the sort of twisted mind to make a swimsuit that would drown you if you wore it into the water? Although perhaps Jennifer Bergeron was also trying to make some sort of statement on the state of the water in and around Montreal? You know, in a roundabout sort of way kind of tell you that the water is polluted.

Detail from Caustic Swimsuit By Jennifer Bergeron
Detail from Caustic Swimsuit By Jennifer Bergeron

And while you’re not going to get electrocuted from wearing a swimsuit made out of dead 1.5 volt batteries, putting them in water probably will make them corrode quicker and end up releasing some rather unsavory chemicals (although it should be noted it depends entirely on the type of battery. Alkaline batteries leak potassium hydroxide, while zinc–carbon batteries leak zinc oxide) it also should be noted that while potassium hydroxide is caustic, zinc oxide is not (or at least that’s what I think).

Like the Non-Grass Grass Skirt for Quebecois Hula Dancing, the Caustic Swimsuit is truly made out of post-consumer waste and lives up to the ideals and concepts of Outfits from a New Era. Which is all very nice, but it still is 240 lbs.!

Detail from Caustic Swimsuit By Jennifer Bergeron
Detail from Caustic Swimsuit By Jennifer Bergeron
Hit Parade By Valérie Bédard
Hit Parade By Valérie Bédard

The last of the 16 dresses is Hit Parade By Valérie Bédard. Made from video tape, audio tape, slides and 35 mm film it is another pretty good example of post consumer waste being put to better use than landfill.

Detail of Hit Parade By Valérie Bédard
Detail of Hit Parade By Valérie Bédard

Initially, because I wasn’t looking too closely, when I read that it was called Hit Parade i mistakenly thought that it had been made from LPs that had been melted down. But no siree bob! I was thoroughly and completely wrong. Made me realize that I needed to pay closer attention at all times.

This dress not only works as an effective example of what Outfits from a New Era is trying to prove, but also looks like it would actually work as something that could be worn, and worn comfortably, to the discotheque. Which is probably why Ms. Bédard started up Audiofil, a company to make things using old cassette tapes as the thread for the fabric. If she ever gets to the point where she makes another one, I would strongly suggest copping some pattern from the 1980s, as that was the height of cassette culture, and social self-reference would just make everybody’s head spin. In a good way.

Detail from Hit Parade By Valérie Bédard
Detail from Hit Parade By Valérie Bédard

As you might have expected after reading all five posts, I was quite charmed by Outfits from a New Era. It seemed that this past summer was a summer of fashion. Beyond the Jean-Paul Gautier exhibit, which I very deliberately did not write about, there was the Arlette Vermeiren Zucoli exhibit and the Les Ballets Russes de Diaghilev exhibit all of which added up to more costumes, fashion and fabric than I had seen in a very long time.

I’m going to have to start studying things much closer, because I’m going to be covering (if that is the appropriate verb) a Lundstrom Fashion show which is happening to benefit the Colorectal Cancer Association of Canada on November 15, 2011.

But not only did I like most of the dresses in Outfits from a New Era but the rationale for making them was also nice, and then the thing that really made my heart go “pitter patter” over the show was since it was at the Biosphere there was hardly anyone there, which while not that great for the Biosphere was great for me, as I can’t stand crowded exhibits where you have to crane your neck to see things or wait patently in line while everyone else ahead of you takes a gander. Although they could have easily saved some cash by ditching the whole vedette thing. I don’t think getting autographed ephemera aids in any way the pedagogic nature of the show, although if I can remind you, I have been wrong before, and I will be wrong again.

I would suggest heading over during the upcoming holidays, as it will guarantee that you don’t run into any school trips. The exhibit itself is on display until December 2012, so if you miss the Christmas season, there’s spring break, Easter, and next summer, ie plenty of time to catch it. And then I seem to remember someone telling me that it was going to tour the country.

For Tags: Names of all the designers, names of all the dresses, Biosphere, Outfits from a New Era, Objets Non Enfouis all the French translation

Art, Fashion, Montréal, Photo Essay, Public Art, Québec, Ramble, Rave, Review, Visual Art

Outfits from a New Era at the Biosphere (Part Four)

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Howdy!

Part One is here, Part Two is here. Part Three is here.

Plush Empress By Majorie Labrèque-Lepage

Plush Empress By Majorie Labrèque-Lepage
Plush Empress By Majorie Labrèque-Lepage

What would you expect from someone who makes stuffed toys for a living? Cute and lighthearted, I’d really like to kn ow what was used to make the skirt hold its shape. A Hoop skirt? Petticoats? Crinoline? Or something else. The tag says that only 4 sweaters, 7 pairs of jeans and 100 buttons were used to make this dress. But I suspect that there were some other things involved as well.

It actually looks like it could be worn, but I’m not 100% convinced I would be able to survive the constant barrage of cuteness. Maybe if I was partial to dressing up for Halloween, I’d be more open to a dress that had a hood with ears and some sort of bear-like soccer ball protruding from the crotch.

Detail of Plush Empress By Majorie Labrèque-Lepage
Detail of Plush Empress By Majorie Labrèque-Lepage

The Outfits from a New Era exhibition were designed to highlight “cast-offs from our society in a whole new light” and while the vast majority of them were made from waste products, four appeared to be made from new material. Of the four, the two following were notable examples.

WFA - With Fixed Address By Stéphanie Lévesque
WFA - With Fixed Address By Stéphanie Lévesque

Another fantasy dress, another material list that isn’t quite complete. That bodice is not made of plywood (unless that’s the thinnest plywood ever – or perhaps it should be the veneer used to make plywood). Although I kind of like the concept of living in your dress. Once you glom onto the idea behind this dress there isn’t an awful lot of depth to it. But I bet you that it is well insulated (yuck, yuck, yuck!)

Of all the dresses in the exhibit, I would guess that this one is the most structurally sound. But probably the most difficult to modify if you gained a couple of pounds. Although I think Stéphanie Lévesque should try to get someone from Mon Plan Rona to wear it as a publicity stunt.

Grand Design By Isabel Vinuela
Grand Design By Isabel Vinuela

This, I think is the weakest of all 16 dresses. Made out of canvas its “twist” is that the drawing and the stickers are supposed to be part of it as well. More of a coat than a dress, it’s kind of difficult to pick out from the drawing, which while obviously the intention, doesn’t make it any better in my eyes. It’s not like I’m going to be walking around wearing the drawing when I put on the dress (or coat).

Wall tag explaining how to interact with Grand Design By Isabel Vinuela
Wall tag explaining how to interact with Grand Design By Isabel Vinuela

Sorry that my picture is so blurry.

I can’t quite accept that the backdrop for a dress is as important (or even more so) than the actual dress.

Grand Design By Isabel Vinuela
Grand Design By Isabel Vinuela

Still more tomorrow.

Art, Fashion, Montréal, Photo Essay, Québec, Ramble, Rave, Review, Visual Art

Outfits from a New Era at the Biosphere (Part Three)

Howdy!

Part One is here, Part Two is here.

Dress the Part by Isabelle Bérubé

Detail from Dress the Part by Isabelle Bérubé
Detail from Dress the Part by Isabelle Bérubé

Now those are some shoulder pads I can really get into… Or if you would prefer less colloquial phrasing, I get a big kick out of this dress as well. Although I’m not certain I would ever be invited someplace where it would be formal enough to wear. And while I would venture a guess that most of the pieces that were used to make it came from sports cars, it is not a “sporty” outfit in the least.

Dress the Part by Isabelle Bérubé
Dress the Part by Isabelle Bérubé

Ms. Bérubé appears to have turned this concept of transforming old car parts (or more precisely old car seats) into fashion accessories fulltime. Although I think she should exhibit her work at the auto show.

Detail from Dress the Part by Isabelle Bérubé
Detail from Dress the Part by Isabelle Bérubé

I can’t imagine that a car tire as a corset or belt would be all that comfortable, however choosing it was an inspired choice. Clearly marking the difference between bottom and top, while at the same time hitting you upside the face with where the materials used to make the dress came from. Without the tire, it would be like some sort of overwrought futuristic ball gown suitable for the cover of a Harlequin Romance about a 22nd century debutante.

Although now that I have gone to the Harlequin Romance website, I have discovered that in fact they do not publish any science fiction, but that they do have a series called Harlequin NASCAR (The rush of the race car circuit; the thrill of falling in love®.) So maybe I should change the lines above to read something like “with the tire it is perfect as the ballgown of Dr. Nicole Foster, the heroine of Running Wide Open.

Naw, not even close.

Detail from Dress the Part by Isabelle Bérubé
Detail from Dress the Part by Isabelle Bérubé

And I’m also not certain what to make of the wires…

Pillbox Dress By Marie Line
Pillbox Dress By Marie Line

Surprisingly, this dress is badly translated. In French it is called “Ordonnance Royale” a pun on the multiple definitions of the word ordonnance. A) a prescription and B) a law. Since it is made up of melted down plastic pill containers and made to look like a ballgown. I think I would have called it something like Royal Script, playing off the multiple definitions of the word script, ne of which is “prescription.” But nobody asked me.

And while it does look like it would be suitable for a princess, I would hate to ask Kate Middleton to have to wear it. As I don’t think melted plastic is the most malleable of materials and according to the tag beside the dress, it weighs in at a little more than 200 pounds.

Detail from Pillbox Dress By Marie Line
Detail from Pillbox Dress By Marie Line
Scanty Attire By Jeanne Cirume
Scanty Attire By Jeanne Cirume

I’m not sure what to make of this one. Despite using Styrofoam from packaging for the socks and the collar it is mainly made out of what they call a “vacuum bag” but is actually a Madvac Collector Bag. You know one of those little four wheeled buggies with a vacuum tube that looks like an elephant’s trunk that sucks up the garbage from the sidewalk? Well, the bag that is used to collect the trash was used to make this dress.

Bird's Nest made from Margie Gillis' hair from 1984
Bird's Nest made from Margie Gillis' hair from 1984

As I’ve mentioned before, there are signed objects from Quebecois vedettes displayed alongside the dresses. Some have obvious connections, some less so. This is one of the more obvious connections. While Margie Gillis has cut her hair (for a very long time she didn’t) this bird’s next comes from the period when she wasn’t cutting it. At the Biosphere they have a very nice story explaining how it came to be.

The reason it is an obvious connection is that the nest is displayed next to this dress.

Hairdress By Roxane Cheibes and Amélie Bruneau Longpré
Hairdress By Roxane Cheibes and Amélie Bruneau Longpré

It can’t be that comfortable to wear even if they attached the hair to a nylon hairstyling cape, I also would love to know how the hair was attached, colored and how much hairspray was used to keep the hair in place. And while it looks really cool, I’m not entirely convinced that hair counts ass garbage.

It also can serve as an example of how unreligious Quebecois culture has become. As recently as fifty years ago, a hairdress would have been worn by someone feeling particularly guilty about some thing (or things). But this exhibit makes no mention or reference in any way shape or form to the religious nature of wearing hair. Which is apparently still done by Carmelites.

Rear view of Hairdress By Roxane Cheibes and Amélie Bruneau Longpré
Rear view of Hairdress By Roxane Cheibes and Amélie Bruneau Longpré
Details of Chapter Ten: Words & Wonder By Geneviève Oligny
Details of Chapter Ten: Words & Wonder By Geneviève Oligny

Another impractical dress, especially since it is lit from within. You can see it in full here. I do not know, but I would imagine that this dress was possibly responsible for the Dramatic Lighting! (with the capital “D,” capital “L” and an exclamation mark) and as with the hairdress, I’m not convinced that books qualify as garbage material.

That all being said, an upskirt shot of Chapter Ten is a very abstract thing.

Details of Chapter Ten: Words & Wonder By Geneviève Oligny
Details of Chapter Ten: Words & Wonder By Geneviève Oligny

Still more tomorrow.

Art, Fashion, Montréal, Photo Essay, Public Art, Québec, Ramble, Review, Visual Art

Outfits from a New Era at the Biosphere (Part Two)

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Howdy!

Part One is here.

Bullet Dress By Geneviève Dumas and Geneviève Flageol
Bullet Dress By Geneviève Dumas and Geneviève Flageol

I’m not quite sure what to make of this one. First I never really thought of shotgun shells as refuse material. Off the top of my head, I can’t imagine that they take up an awful lot of space in landfills. On the other hand, due to the nature of their use I would also imagine that they aren’t brought to landfills and for the most part are left scattered on the ground. But then again I’m not a hunter, and the hunters that I know of are extremely conscientious stewards of nature. So it wouldn’t be a stretch to for them to pick up after themselves, either.

Then we get into the whole use of deadly arms as fashion statement morass. And while I’m certain that there are people out there who match their Smith and Wesson to their bracelet, or more simply, carry a gun around like my father wears a watch. I’m not one of them. Heck I don’t even carry around anything on me that tells the time.

I can see the allure of using brass tipped red plastic cylinders as the basic material for a dress, but the more I think about it, the less I like this particular dress. I don’t remember where or who, but I do remember somewhere learning that the designers were assigned their materials, and so if my memory is in fact correct, I can’t really blame Geneviève Dumas and Geneviève Flageol.

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Signed gas mask used by Jean-François Lépine.
Signed gas mask used by Jean-François Lépine.

But this is where it veers off into the surreal. For reasons that are beyond my comprehension, the exhibit designers decided that dresses made from strange materials wasn’t enough of a draw, so they engaged some vedettes to sign objects that some how had significance to the dresses themselves. Someone decided that a gasmask used by Jean-François Lépine would be make for a good pairing with the Bullet Dress. As M. Lépine writes on the tag for the display “Pour moi, c’est devenu un objet fétiche qui me rappelle que, même dans l’adversité la plus opaque, l’espoir est toujours permis.” Or for the squareheads reading this: “It has become a symbolic object for me; it reminds me that even in the darkest hours of adversity, hope remains.” (As an aside, that is a kick-ass translation, I hope that the designers for the show got paid at least as much as the translators did – but somehow I have a sneaking suspicion that they didn’t.)

But, if you take the statement at face value, it is completely bizarre. I’m not certain what would give the sense of adversity, the bullets? Wearing the dress? Thinking about the use of the bullets? I dunno. But I do know that there are people out there who would pay good money to wear a sexy red Mexican inspired frock like that despite whatever implications it might have.

Rear view of Mermaid Skin By Geneviève Bouchard
Rear view of Mermaid Skin By Geneviève Bouchard

If you’d like to see the front of the dress, click here, I used the photo yesterday, and don’t want to be duplicating things.

I think that this is my favorite dress out of the whole bunch. But more in theory than actual practice. Inspired and inventive. Sassy, smelly and insouciant!! (hey! maybe I could get a gig working for Elle Quebec!)

Detail of Mermaid Skin By Geneviève Bouchard
Detail of Mermaid Skin By Geneviève Bouchard

But someone should let Ms. Bouchard know that if she ever wants to make a second salmon skin dress that she should talk to Lottas Garfveri and/or get her books. Her dresses would be just as Inspired and inventive. Sassy and insouciant, but they would no longer be smelly.

I’m not entirely sold on her use of mussel shells as accessories. And given the exotic nature of the material used, I’m not certain that I really need to discuss the actual design. For the most part, when using skin (ie leather) as a dress material most, if not all the really impressive dresses I’ve seen tend to follow the form of the body fairly closely. As you can see with this one, it is much more florid. Not quite what I would call rococo, but approaching. I don’t know if that was caused by there still being some meat left on the skin when it was cut (and as a consequence why it needs to be refrigerated).

It appears to me that it was made more for one of those matronly mermaids, and not one of those nymph-like mermaids.

Detail of Mermaid Skin By Geneviève Bouchard
Detail of Mermaid Skin By Geneviève Bouchard

And the reason the photographs are so blue, is because of the fluorescent lights in the refrigerator where they have to keep the dress, since Ms. Bouchard made the executive decision not to tan the salmon skins.

Charlestea By Maude Lapierre
Charlestea By Maude Lapierre

A flapper inspired dress made of old tin aluminum cans.

Rear view of Charlestea By Maude Lapierre
Rear view of Charlestea By Maude Lapierre

Next to each dress the exhibition designers wrote some sort of lagniappe next to each dress. In this case they decided that everyone should know that it Maude Lapierre made 4,376 16 gauge holes in the tin aluminum. Personally I would have preferred to know how heavy (or light) the dress was. While it might be aluminum, it still is metal, and before I were to wear it, I’d want to know how many kilos it was.

Detail of Charlestea By Maude Lapierre
Detail of Charlestea By Maude Lapierre

Still more tomorrow.

Art, Dance, Performance, Ramble, Review

Sylvain Émard’s Fragments – Volume 1

Howdy!

Last Friday I finally got around to seeing Fragments – Volume 1 choreographed by Sylvain Emard and danced by Monique Miller, Laurence Ramsay, Manuel Roque and Catherine Viau. I’m kind of glad I did, not because the dance was mind blowingly phenomenal (it wasn’t, although there were parts that kicked-ass) but because it kind of gave me some insight (or what I think is some sort of insight) into the inner workings of quote; high Quebecois Culture, unquote.

But first things first, the dances. In short, it’s fragmented, as you might suspect. If you don’t know the dancers personally, you gotta take the press release at face value (always a dangerous proposition) that it was inspired by the personalities and concerns of the performers. Catherine Viau one of the dancers (and to quote from my notes: “she is very very good”) kept some of her own notes as to how things went during practices (one, two, three and four) with nary a word about how it connects to her personally, which is not to say that it doesn’t, ‘cuz I don’t know her at all, just traded emails a couple of years ago, but you figure… although now that I’m going down this tangent, it also could be that I don’t have the vocabulary or knowledge to recognize certain movements that are based on emotions or thoughts, and what I call a “cheerleading kind of move” or “marching band” is in fact coming directly from some history that I am completely unaware of. Continuing to quote from my notes “I could watch her all night.” But I digress.

Catherine Viau dans Fragments - Volume 1 par Sylvain Émard. Photo: Robert Etcheverry. Source: Sylvain Émard Danse.
Catherine Viau dans Fragments - Volume 1 par Sylvain Émard. Photo: Robert Etcheverry. Source: Sylvain Émard Danse.

Ms. Viau’s piece was the second of the night, called Émoi, émoi, which according to my handy-dandy French/English dictionary could mean “emotion, emotion” or “stir, stir” or “commotion, commotion” or “agitation, agitation” or “flutter, flutter.” (Obviously, I’m not as bilingual as I thought) Personally, I’d go for stir x2 or flutter x2, but mostly because of the way the words can be repeated (it isn’t real common to write “agitation, agitation”) than for anything specific to the dance that she did. It began with her waving or possibly fanning herself and ended with some high stepping and spinning all to some sort of mechanical / industrial kind of soundtrack by Michel F. Côté.

And no matter how hard I try I can’t figure out any connection between Ms. Viau and the movements she made other than she and the moves she makes really really good.

But, instead of doing the whole in media res thing (I don’t know what’s up with this recent fascination with Latin, paenitet) I should just start from the beginning.

It got off on the wrong foot. The very first thing that we saw was this blinding strobe light. Which is all fine and dandy, if you’re 18 years-old and at some discotheque. But isn’t so hot if you’re middle-aged and sitting with someone who has epilepsy. Once the strobe stops you can see Manuel Roque sitting on a chair, upsidedown. Kind of like a you’d imagine a how it would look if you were choreographing a car crash. As all the car crashes I have been in made time seem to move incredibly slow, it only makes sense that Mr. Roque also moves in slow motion. How this car wreck relates to “his garden” I have no clue, but the piece is called “dans mon jardin…” although as far as I know it has nothing to do with the song by Manu Chao.

He returns to a normal speed with a bunch of jumping around and shaking. And then my notes mention that he has swallows and butterflies in his garden, but I have no recollection as to why I suddenly decided to note down the wildlife. Judging from the way it was written and its placement on the page, I would have guessed that it was some sort of lyric, but last I heard Michel F. Côté only writes instrumental music. So I am back at square one. Obviously I need to take much better notes next time.

Anyhows, after the jumping and the shaking, Mr. Roque returns to the chair, upsidedown, and then the piece ends.

The third piece is the one that’s been getting the most notice, mostly because M. Émard chose to use a septuagenarian non-dancer as a dancer. Monique Miller is an actress (now a dancer) who has been performing since the early 1950s.

She wore a kick-ass knit pant suit that had almost looked like a skirt (I think the technical term is elephant leg pants, but I am not certain, I have even less of a vocabulary in fashion than I do in dance) although from where I was sitting it also looked liked she was covered in Saran Wrap underneath the pant suit. Also from where I was sitting I never would have guessed that she was pushing 80 years-old. Forty, maybe fifty, just before I changed the prescription on my glasses, but never 78.

There was some sort of wind-chimey, dangly things suspended from the ceiling that was extremely annoying because of the reflections of the spotlights back into the audience that made it extrmely difficult to concentrate on what Mme. Miller was doing. What she was doing looked an awful lot like emoting and mime. Now, I’m not going to go and complain because a septuagenarian actress can’t dance. But I will question the necessity of putting a non-dance performance in the middle of a dance performance.

It’d be kind of like if I started singing right here, right now

Confusing, right? And then right in the middle of Mme. Miller’s performance someone starts plainchanting a personal ad, not exactly the New York Review of Books quality, but easily worthy of Craigslist. Initially this confused me, as Michel F. Côté only writes instrumental music. But then with a little bit of research, I discovered that M. Émard and M. Côté chose to insert some sort of excerpt from eL/Aficionado a very obscure opera by Robert Ashley. And no, I’d never heard of it either, prior to this. And I would hate to think that it was used as part of the soundtrack because Mme. Miller was looking for a date (remember way back at the top, how M. Émard said that the dances were inspired by the personalities and concerns of the performers… Things that make you go hmmmm.

The last piece, Bicéphale which was the duet of the evening, danced by Laurence Ramsay and Manuel Roque is about as cliched as it’s name. It starts off slow in front of a seam of light, again making it difficult to see. Their movements become quicker and seemed to me to be slightly like something Bob Fosse would have done.

Unfortunately the music by Jan Jelinek had way too much throbbing, buzzing and skreetching for my tastes. And even more unfortunately, it wasn’t anything like what Bob Fosse would have done.

I haven’t seen the other “latest and greatest” creation by M. Émard, The Continental line-dancing thing (it comes in various shapes, sizes and flavors). But, if it does come back this summer, I think I’m going to have to make a point to see it, just because it strikes me as being the complete opposite of Fragments – Volume 1. Either that or wait for Fragments – Volume 2 and see if things then fit together.

Art, Fashion, Montréal, Photo Essay, Public Art, Québec, Ramble, Rave, Review, Visual Art

Outfits from a New Era at the Biosphere (Part One)

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Howdy!

I’ve been meaning to write this one for a fairly long time, since August actually. But seeing as how I took 104 pictures, getting them all organized, uploaded and labelled seemed like a daunting task, so I did what anybody else would do, I put it off. Until today. If you click through to see all the pictures, it’s going to take a while to load, sorry in advance.

Bag Garment By Mélanie Casavant and Bullet Dress By Geneviève Dumas and Geneviève Flageol
Bag Garment By Mélanie Casavant and Bullet Dress By Geneviève Dumas and Geneviève Flageol

In short, since the Biosphere is an “Environment Museum” it only makes sense that they mount exhibits designed to promote environmental awareness. And some bright wag decided to commission 16 clothing designers (I think all women) to create dresses using refuse material.

Now while I am an environmentally aware person and keep a fairly sustainable lifestyle, I’m not big on preaching about it. As a consequence what really struck me about this exhibit was not its Green-ness, but that while everyone was going gaga over the Jean Paul Gaultier exhibit at the Musée des beaux-arts de Montréal here was a truly original fashion exhibit that was not getting any press anywhere.

Light Switch Wall Plate autographed by David Suzuki
Light Switch Wall Plate autographed by David Suzuki

And while I might not proselytize about sustainability, like certain people, I do champion the underdog and Outfits from a New Era at the Biosphere is definitely underdog material if there ever was. The museum probably counts the number of daily visitors in the high two figures, has some breathtaking views of Montreal and is a charter member of the Cult of Bucky. What more do you need?

Anyhows, while I do not consider myself a fashionista, nor an authority on fabrics and style, instead of viewing these as liabilities I figured (like usual) that instead, if I approached this as a learning opportunity it shouldn’t be a hindrance to writing about it and taking some pictures. Right?

Mermaid Skin By Geneviève Bouchard
Mermaid Skin By Geneviève Bouchard

To me it was more of a compare and contrast situation. While it seemed like everyone and their mother was raving about how original and inventive M. Gaultier’s dresses were, here were some truly original and inventive dresses that weren’t getting any attention whatsoever. And while I’m certain that at some point M. Gaultier did in fact actually touch the dresses on exhibit that bore his name, I’m fairly convinced that he didn’t actually do much (if any) of the sewing, knitting, weaving, embroidery or any of the other tasks involved in making the dresses.

Whereas even without doing serious research, I’d bet my bottom dollar that each and everyone of the designers who made the “Outfits from a New Era” was significantly involved in the actual fabrication of their dresses. And while I am all for the artist-as-thinker-and-not-necessarily-creator concept (see Andy Warhol’s Red Self-Portraits One, Two, Three, Four, Five , Six, Seven and Eight for a fascinating insight into the attribution of artwork)

Detail from Dress the Part By Isabelle Bérubé
Detail from Dress the Part By Isabelle Bérubé

If I’m going to make one complaint (actually as I’m less than halfway through, I imagine that there will be other complaints, let’s just call this one the first. Which is not to say or suggest that the exhibit is bad, just that there is always room for improvement). This contemporary fad, or what I hope is a fad, for Dramatic Lighting! (with the capital “D,” capital “L” and an exclamation mark) drives me up a wall. In general when it comes to art/culture/things to look at or watch, you have two choices if you’re indoors; A white cube or a black box.

White Cubes tend toward being bright and Black Boxes (as you might expect) tend to be dark. Since they are dark, the Black Boxes use highly focused spotlights to draw your attention to stuff that the exhibition designers want you to look at. In contrast to the White Cube where, for the most part, your eye is free to roam where you wish. If you haven’t figured it out yet, I can’t stand exhibits that are housed in Black Boxes. And Outfits from a New Era is, unfortunately in a Black Box, pity.

I don’t know if it is because my eyes don’t react well to large contrasts in brightness, or if because I’m in darkness for the most part I don’t get the nuances of color as well as I would if it were brighter, or if it has something to do with my glasses. But whatever it is, Dramatic Lighting! (with the capital “D,” capital “L” and an exclamation mark) bugs the heck out of me.

Chapter Ten: Words & Wonder By Geneviève Oligny
Chapter Ten: Words & Wonder By Geneviève Oligny

Light Flow By Chloé B. Fortin

Light Flow By Chloé B. Fortin
Light Flow By Chloé B. Fortin

I think you can see what I mean by a lot of nuance being missed because of the Dramatic Lighting! (with the capital “D,” capital “L” and an exclamation mark) in the picture above. Light Flow By Chloé B. Fortin is a light, wispy and diaphanous something or other that to my mind would be appropriate in a boudoir or a pornographic film shoot. Apparently made from 2,500 light bulbs and 66 meters of stripped copper wire.

Light Flow By Chloé B. Fortin
Light Flow By Chloé B. Fortin

One of those garments that professes to show more than it hides, in French it is called “le grand courant lumineux” or in a hackneyed translation “the great current of light,” it was initially called “Le grand souffle” which has more to do with breath and wind than electricity. Which gives a much better idea of the “wispy and diaphanous something or other nature” of the garment.

Detail from Light Flow By Chloé B. Fortin
Detail from Light Flow By Chloé B. Fortin

You can see better detail pictures here> I’m fairly certain that it doesn’t light up or get illuminated from within. But beyond the wispy nature of it, I’m not quite certain what to make of it. While the use of the light-bulbs is alright, there isn’t really anything in it beyond the use of non-traditional materials that pushes any boundaries. And given what has been already done with LEDs and clothing, I’m inclined to think that’s it’s kind of like the clothes your sister’s friend in high school wore. Something designed to make her look good, not making any real statements and not that different from what everyone else was wearing.

Bag Garment By Mélanie Casavant

Bag Garment By Mélanie Casavant
Bag Garment By Mélanie Casavant

This little frock caught my eye, although I don’t know if it was because it’s black, and as you know, black is the new black. Or if it was because it was strapless and since I am not y-chromosome challenged, bare shoulders always make me shiver slightly, even during the summer, even on a faceless mannequin. Or what. I’ll leave it up to your imagination.

Detail from Bag Garment By Mélanie Casavant
Detail from Bag Garment By Mélanie Casavant

Anyhows, this was the first one, where I thought to myself: “I’m not so certain that they actually used stuff from the garbage to make this…” Seeing as how it is made from those plastic bags you take with you when you’re walking your dog and you’re playing State Farm and being a good neighbor and picking up after your dog and everything.

None the less, I like how it incorporates the paw print motif from the bags, is over the knee and has some sort of petticoat action happening. Kind of like being post-modern and anti-nostalgic at the same time.

Detail from Bag Garment By Mélanie Casavant
Detail from Bag Garment By Mélanie Casavant

Although I’m not certain I want to know what’s in the bag…

More tomorrow.

Books, Ramble, Review

La Grande Dégustation de Montréal & Bourbon Whiskey, Our Native Spirit by Bernie Lubbers

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Howdy!

Yesterday I went to the La Grande Dégustation de Montréal. Unlike the 99% I was looking for bourbon. And of all the different things to taste, there was exactly one (1) bourbon. Woodford Reserve which was right next to the Jack Daniels stand, which makes sense as both are brands that are owned by Brown-Forman, unfortunately they decided not to bring Early Times or Early Times 354. The Woodford Reserve was as expected, extremely tasty.

However, we were able to think quickly on our feet, and sampled from very fine scotches. Our first stop was at the Edrington Group/Beam Global booths. While Maker’s Mark, Jim Beam, Knob Creek, Basil Hayden’s and Booker’s are all available from the SAQ, they weren’t at La Grande Dégustation de Montréal. I spent some time talking with the folk at the booth about making Baker’s, Old Grand-Dad and Old Crow available in Quebec.

They did have Highland Park and The Macallan both of which were extremely tasty in a bunch of different variations. If I remember correctly, we sampled Macallan 15 year-old and 18 year-old along with the 18 year-old Highland Park. Video to follow as soon as I have time to edit things down.

I was also able to taste a couple of varieties of Bowmore and Auchentoshan both of which were delicious.

All of which is a long winded way to get around to talking about Bourbon Whiskey, Our Native Spirit by Bernie Lubbers. Pretty much the first time in a long time I’ve picked up what I would call a textbook. If you didn’t realize, me and textbooks are not a terribly good mix, most of the time.

This time however, I’m probably going to go back and read it a second time. Voluntarily. While it just scratches the surface, it is a very nice entry into the world that is bourbon, and by extension whiskies and other distilled beverages.

Recently I’ve been doing some tastings of different types of bourbons (sadly, only ten) and for the most part end up concentrating on color, smell and taste. After reading Mr. Lubber’s book I was informed of a bunch of things about bourbon (and by extension American and Canadian whiskies) that enabled me to look like a superstar at La Grande Dégustation de Montréal.

Things like asking about how barrels were racked. Or the effects of different types of barrels on whiskies (because unlike bourbon which must be stored for at least four years in new oak barrels that have been charred, other types of whiskies don’t have such restrictions). I brought a checklist with me to the tasting in order to remember to discuss the recipe used, the number of distillations, how the grain is milled, the racking, the yeast and the barrels. All of which will affect the final product.

I only was able to think to ask those kind of questions, thanks to Mr. Lubber’s book, which goes into some detail about how those things affect bourbon.

The one fault I would point out with the book – which might not be a fault for you – is that there is a large chapter on places to visit in Kentucky when on the Bourbon Trail. And while Mr. Lubber is very good at explaining the various nuances about bourbon, he isn’t quite as compelling when writing about bars, restaurants and hotels in Kentucky. But that’s a minor point, given that he devotes two chapters to the history of bourbon, and another to various bourbon recipes.

I’m going to have to track down some more books on bourbon if I expect to become a better informed bourbon drinker.

La Grande Dégustation de Montréal continues today and tomorrow at the Palais de congres, and you can order Mr. Lubber’s book here.

Books, Review

The Adventures of a Free Lunch Junkie by Earl Bronsteen

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Howdy!

I’ve been a big fan of Earl Bronsteen’s since August of 2005 when I first discovered his first art book, How to be a Famous Contemporary Artist. If you haven’t already you should go buy it now.

Then in 2009, I interviewed him with Sabrina Santucci and Liz Pieries about his second book, “Contemporary Art Appreciation 101:
How to Understand What’s Contemporary Art and What’s Snot / Everything You Always Wanted to Ask About Contemporary Art But Were Afraid to Know”

Well now he’s back with a third book. “The Adventures Of A Free Lunch Junkie.” For a variety of reasons I’m late to the party with this review. I’m sorry and I promise it won’t happen again.

Clocking in at a robust 278 pages, in short, it’s a very nice read. If you prefer the longer version, continue scrolling down.

In case you’ve been under a rock for a while, there’s been a serious pandemic of greed that has been going around the United States for the past decade or so. One of the more particularly egregious forms of it was (is, it still happens to this day, as far as I know) when some slick Gordon Gekko type invites a bunch of golden-agers to have a lunch on his dime while he puts on a very impressive presentation based mostly on smoke and mirrors about how the golden-agers can become fabulously wealthy if they just invest their money with the Gordon Gekko wannabe.

The unfortunate truth is that the golden-agers don’t become fabulously wealthy, but the Gordon Gekko clone does.

Mr. Bronsteen launched himself freely and of his own volition into this morass for a variety of reasons in between May 2010 and February 2011 in order to partake in 50 of these bonanza buffets. The result will not leave you with that overstuffed feeling, and is perfect for most diets. (C’mon! I couldn’t resist, once I had typed the words “bonanza buffets” the rest was a foregone conclusion, thanks for understanding).

Reading between the lines, I got a sense that he might have become bored (or disenchanted) with the art world, and was looking around for something else. But as I have stated previously, I’ve been wrong before, and am likely to be wrong again – or if you prefer in the spirit of the book “Past Performance is No Guarantee of Future Results.”

First off, as he is octogenarian, I would have presumed he knew that a fork always goes on the left side. But there he is bold as life on the front cover of his book with a big steak knife in his left hand and the fork in his right. I’d chalk this up as a mere reversal of the original photo, but in the book he does mention how he parts his hair on the right side, which is where the part in his hair is in this picture. But then again blame might be assignable to one of the staff at the restaurant where the picture was taken, because while the glass of red wine is in its proper place on the right hand side of the setting, the cake fork and spoon for desert are not facing in opposite directions.

Although now that I mention it, the whole photo could be a large and elaborate ruse, and not an actual picture from one of the free lunches that Mr. Bronsteen ate. Some dastardly combo of Photoshop and Food Styling. Because as he also clearly states a couple of times in the book, he does not drink alcohol! Why would there be a picture of him with a full glass of red wine in front of him, unless it was the fabrication of some nameless Food Stylist who overcharges to take pictures of things people eat. Or perhaps it was taken at one of those tourist traps where they try to get you to pay $20 for a Polaroid picture in a paper frame so you never forget the memory. I have one of those from a dinner cruise that I took about 20 years ago, and believe you me I will never forget it, ever.

However, do not let this dissuade you in any way about the book. As I have said numerous times, you cannot judge a book by its cover.

But back to the book itself, for whatever reasons, and place settings aside, Mr. Bronsteen writes about the 50 meals he ate where someone else was buying the food and then pitching him on something. I discovered that these free lunches aren’t only for investments. They can also be given by retirement homes, doctors and funeral homes among others. Just about anyplace where someone thinks that they might be able to separate the checkbook from the checkbook writer.

Mr. Bronsteen’s descriptions of the meals are sometimes sparse, but I imagine that the food itself wasn’t anything to write home about, and if it’s not worth writing home about, it sure as shooting isn’t worth writing in a book about. However as he labels the book satire, the descriptions of the hows, whats, whys and whens of the free lunch circuit are very frequently hilarious.

I was surprised to find out that an awful lot of the lunches not only happen at breakfast and dinner, but also in the same restaurants and in certain cases the pitchmen/women are in fact the same. Mr. Bronsteen describes a couple of times where he almost has to put on a disguise in order to eat – and the other ‘incident’ that I’ll remember for a while is when he gets carded and then told he can’t have the free lunch because he is too old.

I’m not certain that I would have been able to go back to Morton’s and Ruth’s Chris all that often. Although at some point I gotta get me to a Morton’s and a Ruth’s Chris (or get a Morton’s and a Ruth’s Chris to me) because my grandmother was named Ruth, and I am fairly confident that at sometime in my formative years someone called me “Ruth’s Chris” when my mom wasn’t around. And on the other side of the family my grandfather’s name was Morton. Go figure, I guess that’s why I like steak.

I also know that free lunch seminars designed to separate you from your money (no matter how old or young you are) are illegal here in Canada. One of many significant differences between the United States and Canada. As a consequence even if I was able to get a Morton’s and a Ruth’s Chris to me I wouldn’t be able to write a similar book.

Actually, given what I know of Mr. Bronsteen’s life, I can only hope and wish that I am as capable, interesting and entertaining as he is when I am his age. I am fortunate to share birthdays with him (only 37 years apart) and if I squint hard enough I can see some other similarities as well. But it is still a stretch, heck, actually just getting to 80 would be great, everything else would be gravy.

In speaking with him, he has not divulged what his next project is going to be, but if it is half as good as The Adventures Of A Free Lunch Junkie I can’t wait.

Art, Performance, Ramble, Review

The Tiger Lillies at Usine C

Howdy!

I’ve definitely been out of touch with the music industry for the better part of a decade. On Thursday I went to see a band that I had never previously hear of, that I initially thought were derivative because they were just starting out, and then after doing a little bit of digging discover that I need to eat my shorts as they have been around since the mid 1990s and have recorded and released 24 CDs (according to Wikipedia 31). Ooops!

But let me backtrack slightly. I’ve always had a kind of love/hate relationship with the lyrics of Bertolt Brecht. Music by Kurt Weill is wonderful in my humble estimation, so there are some versions of the Threepenny Opera that I adore, and others that aren’t so hot.

Initially The Tiger Lillies had been peddled to me as a kind of Brecht/Weill, Threepenny Opera kind of thing, and seeing as how I was feeling slightly frisky I figured “what the hey!” And went with open ears.

They started with more than a bang, coming out on stage and playing Heroin and Cocain. As you can hear, they lyrics are kind of (if you squint slightly) like Brecht (via Marc Blitzstein). But the music isn’t quite Weill

It isn’t quite Welk, either. But it is a tad closer. At first I was quite charmed. Martyn Jacques sings similarly to Jimmy Somerville although I doubt he is a Smalltown Boy.

But once I made that connection, I was off to the races. Over the course of about two dozen songs (of which I only recognized one, Autumn Leaves) I was able to come up with a bunch of different performers who had some sort of connection to The Tiger Lillies. Ranging from Mel Torme

to Tiny Tim

To Spike Jones & his City Slickers

If you want the complete list write to me if you’re curious. Some of them are Rusty Warren, Bun E. Carlos, L’Orchestre d’Hommes-Orchestres, Charles Bukowski.

While the references are all over the place, the songs I heard seemed to be mining a fairly similar terrain. I don’t know if that was due to my being unfamiliar with the songs and as a consequence concentrating mainly on the lyrics and the stage show, or if in fact most of the songs that the Tiger Lillies have recorded over their 24 CD career (maybe 31) indeed sound alike (somehow as I write that sentence, I’m not too certain even I can’t believe that all their songs sound alike).

While it is all fine and dandy to try to shock people with graphic content, I was quite surprised while listening to realize that the rapes, murders and debauched behavior that they sung about was quite similar to what was sung in the 1920s and 30s to shock people. Somehow I would have presumed that someone singing in angry clown makeup in the 21st century who was looking to offend people’s sensibilities would have sung about something potentially more on the edge than straight heterosexual rapes, stabbings and standard issue drug addicts. It gives The Tiger Lillies a faintly quaint air, which almost has a wistful aura of nostalgia.

Kind of like “why can’t we go back to the gold old days, when it was much clearer and easier to understand what behavior was bad?” While at the same time they were definitely members of the 21st century as there wasn’t a single glass of alcohol anywhere on stage. I’m still trying to work out if I like the nostalgia schtick, or if I was disappointed that they hadn’t revised their book of sins so that is was more contemporary.

I gotta hand it to Adrian Huge,

who while not quite the reincarnation of Keith Moon

he comes about as close as I’ve ever seen anyone since Uncle Ernie.

The other Adrian in the band, Adrian Stout, played a mighty fine bass and musical saw, but I was a tad dismayed to see the Theremin that he had set up in front of him go unplayed for the duration of the concert.

We were sitting behind local vedette Eric Braun from Usine 106u who was thoroughly and completely enjoying himself. Behind us was Marie Chouinard although she didn’t last four songs (which quite possibly could have warmed the cockles of Mr. Jacques’ heart). Maybe she didn’t get into the nostalgia.

Given the crowd and the band’s predilections, I can’t understand why they played in the big hall at Usine C, the smaller stage which is much more cabaret-like would have been absolutely perfect for them. Instead of fairly large and cavernous soft-seater where there was a distinct sensation of an awful lot of empty space right behind us. I was very happy to hear that this was their third time performing at Usine C, which means that they have played in Montreal at least three times. But I would be worried for whomever is promoting the fourth time.

It’s tough after one two hour and fifteen minute (including intermission) performance to really have a complete and comprehensive understanding of any band, let alone one as on the fringe as The Tiger Lillies. I’d love it if there was some sort of connection I could make to the Woody Allen film What’s Up, Tiger Lily?. Or if there was anyway I could figure out to connect the band and/or their songs any of the flowers called Tiger Lily to the fact that none of them are native to England (where the band is from) but I can’t. Which leaves me having to make stuff up on my own.

After having read the various raves about them from people as diverse as Matt Groening, Alex Kapranos, Mark Mothersbaugh, Marc Almond and Nan Goldin on their website I’m almost tempted to believe I might have missed something. But I don’t think I did. On the other hand I am not as completely over the top and gung-ho about The Tiger Lillies as they are. I’m definitely going to have to find a copy of the Gorey End, because I like Edward Gorey and the Kronos Quartet, before I commit to a final judgment on and about them.

And now, finally, while copy and pasting that link – I think I unearthed why I distinctly have this sensation of having missed something during their show. The Tiger Lillies are a theatrical band, the music that they perform is all about characters and events. Sometimes the Tiger Lillies even perform an opera. The show that I saw did not have any songs that were linked, there was no connections between anything. It was as if someone had given me a bunch of photographs of people without any background information and then wondered why I did not know any details about the people in the photographs after having looked at the photographs once.

Sorry about being slow.